


Force of Nature

by Melina



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), Highlander: The Series
Genre: BDSM, Crossover, Dominance, Dominant/Submissive, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom/malesub, For the love of God tell me you read these tags, Power Dynamics, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melina/pseuds/Melina
Summary: It was the woman who commanded his attention; even with her back to him, she was striking -- tall, with dark, glossy hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. His impression was confirmed as she looped the boy's leash into a hook on the wall and turned around. She couldn't have been much older than thirty, but she carried herself like royalty, leaving little room for doubt as to the force of her personality -- or that she was a dominant to be reckoned with.
Relationships: Amanda Darieux/Matthew Clairmont
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. A Vampire Walks into an Underground Sex Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killabeez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killabeez/gifts).



> Another of my wretched crossovers. Sorry not sorry. This is a standalone prequel to [Nine of Cups](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538419), but you do not have to have read that series for this one to make sense. (This is, though, the experience Matthew references at the end of [_Trust_.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329650)
> 
> If you might like to read this but aren't familiar with one of the fandoms, [I wrote a brief and hopefully mildly entertaining intro to both universes](https://melina.dreamwidth.org/172869.html). It's as minimally spoilery as possible if you plan to read or watch later.
> 
> The reason for "choose not to warn" is that I don't wish to get into a discussion of whether BDSM play constitutes "graphic depictions of violence." This story includes conduct and mentions of conduct typical to BDSM scenes. It does not include rape/non-con, character death, or underage characters.
> 
> This is dedicated to killabeez with much love, because my love for Amanda came from her, and she taught me what an amazing goddess Amanda is on every level. Love you so much, hon.

_Central London  
Autumn, 1990_

Matthew wasn't quite sure why he'd decided to go to the underground club that night, but the place was certainly lively. Located in the enormous basement of a wildly popular dance club on Charing Cross Road, the nameless establishment required knowing someone who knew someone before one was admitted. And apparently many people did. Mostly human, but with a sprinkling of creatures as well –- he saw many daemons, a few vampires, and a witch or two. Nobody he knew.

The club catered to anyone in the scene, gay, straight, and bi; pairs, threesomes, and groups were plentiful. Some were here to play or find partners, others to socialize, the rest to see or be seen, and clothing was strictly optional. Most submissives in attendance on a dominant were in some state of undress, while everyone else wore anything from latex or leather to casual clothing.

He’d chosen to dress simply, in black trousers and a dark green dress shirt. Taking in the ambiance as he entered, he was still unsure why he had come, other than a vague sense of restlessness and a desire to escape the lab for a while. Was he looking for a submissive with whom he might while away a few hours? Perhaps. Glancing over at the area where the uncollared submissives tended to gather, he noted there were more than a few to choose from. Different ages, physical types, attitudes; whatever took his fancy, as long as the interest was mutual, and it usually was.

He considered wandering deeper into the club but decided against it for the moment. The room just past the entryway was a large, rectangular-shaped antechamber, mostly meant for relaxation and socializing, and there were any number of points where one might attach a leash to keep a submissive from wandering. Two large playrooms were just beyond, along with a number of smaller ones catering to particular tastes and desires.

Leaning against the bar, Matthew wished for a glass of wine, but they served only juice, water, and soft drinks. It was understandable. Mixing alcohol and play was a bad idea, at least for humans, and as an unlicensed establishment, the club was far more likely to find trouble for serving alcohol than for any of the other activities that took place on the premises.

Glancing around idly, still trying to decide why he was there and what he wanted to do, he spotted the woman from halfway across the room. Her back was to him, and she had a male submissive kneeling on the floor in front of her. He was built like a firefighter, yet he looked both small and utterly miserable. 

But it was the woman who commanded his attention; even with her back to him, she was striking -- tall, with dark, glossy hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. His impression was confirmed as she looped the boy's leash into a hook on the wall and turned around. Beautiful, with full breasts and a slim waist, and legs so long they should have been physically impossible. She wore a sleeveless black dress that didn't quite reach her knees and remarkably high heels. She couldn't have been much older than thirty, but she carried herself like royalty, leaving little room for doubt as to the force of her personality -- or that she was a dominant to be reckoned with.

Leaving the boy to his misery, her eyes flickered around the room before falling on Matthew. Without conscious thought, he dropped his eyes, and then he immediately wondered why he'd done it. Christ, he might as well be wearing a red flashing sign reading "submissive" around his neck. When he lifted his eyes again, she was still looking at him, a smile quirking her mouth. He dropped his gaze again, unsure if he was hoping she would approach him or disappear.

He didn't watch her approach, but he knew she was there. Her scent -- wildflowers and saffron -- washed over him as she drew closer.

"Aren't you pretty," she said, and he looked up, meeting her eyes. She was even more lovely close up, with a full mouth and mischievous dark eyes. Those eyes, at the moment, were openly looking him up and down. He felt utterly exposed under her assessment and uncharacteristically self-conscious. "What's your name, handsome?" She spoke with an American accent, yet her voice had a lightness to it that suggested other origins.

"Matthew," he answered simply, his ability to flirt, or even converse normally, having apparently deserted him. 

"What a lovely name." She reached up and lightly stroked his face with the back of her fingers. Her eyebrows lifted a bit before she leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Especially for a vampire."

He blinked, surprised, but she only smiled as she leaned back. "Unfortunately, Matthew, I have my hands full with a disobedient brat tonight." She nodded over her shoulder at the unfortunate boy, still on his knees and leashed to the wall. "But I'll expect your call." She pressed a business card into his palm and slid her hand down his arm before disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as she was gone, he looked at the card. It was printed with a London phone number and a first name -- _Amanda_.

For a long moment, he was deeply envious of the disobedient brat.

~*~

Over the next few days, he looked at the card again and again. Why was he even considering calling her? It had been a mistake on his part that had led to a misread on hers, but why hadn't he told her that right away?

He hadn't submitted to anyone in decades -- or had it been longer than that? Submission went against his nature; he wanted control whenever he could wield it, and he was always vaguely uncomfortable when he couldn't. Why would he seriously think about subjecting himself to a situation where he had no control beyond a safeword?

His curiosity got the better of him, and he set aside his own motives for the moment, making a few carefully placed inquires about Amanda. Everyone he asked seemed to know her or know of her. She had been around the London scene for five or six years, and she was well-respected. The consensus was she had independent wealth or family money; she lived well but not extravagantly, and she didn't seem to have a career.

She played with boys and girls both, a few at any one time. Except temporarily for public play, she didn't collar her submissives, and a year or so seemed to be the longest she'd kept company with any of them. Nobody had heard of any drama, however; she always seemed to part with her submissives on good terms.

Amanda had been an utterly compelling presence in the club, and what he learned about her only made her more interesting. He kept coming back to the question of why he had reacted to her as he did, and why he had played along instead of simply telling her the truth. There had been a time, very long ago, when he'd found freedom in letting go. Had she simply awakened desires he thought were long gone? Or maybe this was simply something he needed, even if it went against his instinctive inclinations -- an escape from the sometimes crushing pressures of his work, his obligations to his family, and keeping his secret safe from humans.

What, after all, did he really have to lose? If he called her, he wouldn't be committing to anything more than a single date. It wouldn't be unusual for a first date between a dominant and a submissive to be the last; sometimes the chemistry just wasn't there, or one partner wanted to play harder or easier than the other desired. At the least, as accomplished as she appeared to be, Matthew might learn something from her.

Pushing his uncertainty away, he decided to stop second-guessing himself. He wanted to do this, to see it through and to see where it would take him.

He picked up the telephone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!


	2. A Firm Hand

He arrived at the appointed time at a large multistory house in Knightsbridge, just south of the park. A young, attractive woman answered the door and led him into the broad entryway, up a grand staircase and down a hall. There was a second, circular stairway leading up to a third story, and the young woman gestured him ahead of her. Matthew looked around as he reached the top of the steps, taking in the expansive, open space of a thousand square feet or more.

It was clearly Amanda's playroom, but it seemed to be out to defy the stereotype. Floor to ceiling windows on one wall were covered with gauzy white curtains, allowing in ample natural light, and the entire room was an inviting shade of azure blue. There were full-length built-in cupboards along one wall, painted a warm white, some of which had countertops between upper and lower cupboards. In the far corner, there was a double bed a few feet from the wall, and a love seat facing it. The floor was old wood, with throw rugs here and there.

If the room's inviting decor gave little away as to its purpose, the St. Andrew's cross and bondage frame -- along with several benches, ceiling-mounted restraints, a padded table, and other equipment -- left little doubt.

The young woman spoke. " _Madomaisèla _will be with you soon," she said, using the Provençal word for _mademoiselle_. "Please wait. If you need anything, just call down the stairs for me. My name is Andria."__

Matthew thanked her in Provençal, which earned him a smile before she retreated down the stairs. As he hadn't been given any instructions, he went over to the window and took in the view of Hyde Park. He was undeniably a bit unsettled, both about seeing her again and what she would demand of him. 

Amanda didn't keep him waiting long. A few minutes later, she swept into the room, approaching him with, "Hello, darling," and offering him her hand. He kissed it with as much grace as he could manage, and she smiled approvingly. She was dressed in fashionable street clothes, an elegant navy blue dress and heels, her dark hair falling loose past her shoulders. She looked like she'd just returned from lunch at the Ritz with a countess.

Taking his hand, she led him to the love seat in the corner. "Let's sit a moment." He sat, angling his body to face her. Smiling, she drew the back of her hand down his cheek again, as she had in the club. His eyes dropped closed, opening when she spoke.

"You're an interesting man, Professor," she said. "Genetics, biochemistry? Although there are a lot of vampires in the sciences, or so I've heard."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You checked me out," he said, keeping his voice neutral.

"Darling, you're a vampire I'm welcoming into my _home_. I'd be a fool not to find out if you had a reputation for being trustworthy in our little community." That was, undeniably, a fair point. "And I'm sure you did the same, given that I know your secret."

He smiled ruefully, admitting what she already suspected -- or knew. "Did I pass?"

"Of course you did, or you wouldn't be here," Amanda said. "But the most interesting thing I found out is that you're known entirely as a dominant. Nobody said you switch." She didn't seem upset, and she had invited him here, regardless of what she'd learned. He saw no point in being anything less than honest.

"It's true," he said. "I haven't...in a very long time."

She gave him a long look that he couldn't quite read. "What made you decide to switch now, after so long?"

Matthew didn't hesitate. "You."

She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, caressing him for a moment. "Switching can be difficult for dominants, as I'm sure you know, and I won't go easy on you."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"Very well. A few things, then. You may call me _Madame_ , or Mistress, or Amanda."

He looked at her with a bit of surprise; most dominants would not tolerate a submissive calling them by their name, including him. "I'm not much interested in other people's rules, darling. And I have only a few. Obedience, honesty, respect. You request permission before you speak unless I ask you a question...or do anything else unless instructed." Her mouth quirked in a smile.

His trousers tightening at her words and at her tone. He nodded.

"One more thing," she said, and this time her voice was steely. "No vampire bullshit. You use your strength to break out of restraints instead of safewording, you come at me with your speed, strength, anything, and we're done, permanently. And," she added, "you will not taste my blood. Ever. Do you understand and agree?"

Looking at her evenly, he said, "I agree."

"We don't have to worry about safe sex, unless that's otherwise a limit of yours?" He shook his head. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" she continued. "Do you have any questions?"

Did he ever have questions. About her. About why she'd picked him out. About how she'd learned about vampires. He shook his head. "No... _Madame_." He wasn't sure how he felt about calling her by her name.

She smiled again. "Good. Tell me your safeword."

He didn't really have his own word. If he needed to use one with a submissive, he used theirs. "Venice," he said. It would do.

"Venice it is. I doubt we'll do anything today that's a hard limit for you, but if you need to, use your safeword. Next time, bring a list of any hard limits and give it to Andria. You can include soft limits if you wish, but that will probably only make me want to push them. That's what limits are for, aren't they?"

His trousers tightened even more. Next time. Pushing his limits. Christ.

"Stand up," she said, rising herself. She led him near the center of the room. "Strip for me, and set your things on the counter," she said, gesturing toward the wall of cupboards.

Despite his erection, he stripped quickly, and with a vampire's typical lack of concern about nudity. Even so, Matthew could feel her eyes on him, provoking an unfamiliar feeling of self-consciousness. He ignored it as best he could.

Setting his clothes aside, he went back and stood before her, his eyes lowered. She ran her hand down his cheek. "Unless I tell you otherwise, there's no need to keep your eyes down."

She stepped away, and he heard a cupboard open and close. When she returned, she stood in front of him. "Stay very still for me," she said.

It took a few seconds before he realized what Amanda was doing -- fitting him with a cock ring. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the stimulation of her hands, attempting to remain still. His head dropping back, he closed his eyes as she snapped the thing tight, and a shudder rippled through him. 

"Open your eyes," she said. She ran a finger up and down his shaft, and he didn't try to hold back a groan. Fuck. She smiled and stepped back. "Kneel." 

He knelt, settling back on his heels, resting his hands on his upper thighs. She would correct anything she didn't like in his posture, he knew, and she did, nudging his knees further apart and tilting his shoulders back an inch or two. 

"Very good. From now on, this is how you'll be waiting for me when I arrive. Including the ring, and anything else I leave out for you. Understood?"

He nodded. Her words were kind, her tone was light -- and absolutely commanding at the same time.

"Good." She stepped away again, and he tried to settle down -- but he couldn't help but wonder, worry, about what she was retrieving.

A few moments later, something traced down his back, followed by a sharp slap to his shoulder. A crop, he thought. Amanda circled him, alternating sensation with pain, pausing to touch him on his neck, his back, his thigh. He knew what she was doing; watching him, gauging his reactions, seeing what he responded to. But he was thinking too much, anticipating -- and failing to give himself over to the sensations, or to her. His mind was nowhere close to where it needed to be. Suddenly, he was filled with doubt, wondering if this had been a terrible idea. Perhaps he'd been fooling himself because of his attraction to her.

Before long, she stopped and crouched down directly in front of him, lifting his chin to meet her eyes. "You're distracted, tense. And you're thinking so loudly they can probably hear you in Scotland." She paused a moment, stroking his face and his hair. "What's wrong, darling?"

"Switching can be difficult for dominants," he said wryly. "Having a bit of trouble letting go."

"Is that what you want?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he said, looking into her beautiful eyes. "Yes, it is."

She smiled. "Then let's see what we can do to get you out of that pretty little head of yours. Go over to the bench and wait for me."

The bench she'd indicated was a simple padded kneeling bench, with a lower step for the knees and a higher, longer one to support the torso. It had metal rings in various places along the base, but no cuffs were attached at the moment. Matthew waited, avoiding the temptation to look over his shoulder and see what she was doing. It didn't take long before she approached, remaining out of his line of sight.

"Kneel," she said, not unkindly, "and bend over for me. Rest your head as you like; I'm not going to restrain you." He complied with her instructions, resting his head on folded arms. She nudged his legs apart. "Wider, darling."

He had half expected a paddle, but he was wrong. Instead, he felt her fingers parting his cheeks, spreading cool gel across his opening. Tensing, he instinctively resisted the intimacy, the helplessness of what he knew was coming. He thought of objecting before he recalled what he'd said to a recalcitrant submissive at the club just a few weeks earlier. "We discussed this. Unless it's a hard limit or you safeword, I will touch you as I wish, _ma chérie_." Matthew's tone hadn't been angry, but it had been firm and unyielding, a strict dominant demanding what was his. She hadn't used her safeword.

Amanda deserved the same respect, and he either needed to trust her, or safeword and end it. He kept his mouth shut and tried to quiet his noisy mind.

She put her hand on his lower back. "Relax, and take a deep breath," she said, rubbing his lower back gently. "Now exhale," she said, and her finger slipped inside him. He resisted the urge to tense again, yielding to her, and she praised him quietly as she added another finger, moving them slowly.

Her fingers withdrew, and he felt more lubricant before something began to press into him. A plug, and not a huge one either, but certainly enough to get his attention, to help him ignore everything except Amanda and what he was feeling. She twisted the plug inside him, moving it back and forth, and he unconsciously rubbed his erection against the bench. Trying to remain still without much success, Matthew groaned as the plug grazed his prostate, squirming against it. 

"You resist this, darling, yet you respond so beautifully to it." Her voice was like velvet, soft and rich. "Perhaps we should find out how you really feel. Maybe I'll invite a few friends over sometime, strapping lads. Let them pass you around while I watch." A shudder went through him as Amanda twisted the plug again. He wasn't sure what he was reacting to -- the plug, the idea of submitting himself to the pleasure of multiple men, or her promise to watch.

She dragged the back of her fingers slowly up and down his spine. "Where are you right now? Still thinking, or here with me?"

"Here, _Madame_ ," he said, her touch causing a shiver to slide down his back.

"Good," she said, her tone inducing another shiver. "I want you here with me, feeling what I want you to feel. Do you understand?"

"Yes, _Madame_." She had promised not to go easy on him, and he was grateful for it. Submission might not ever be simple for him, but it was easier under her firm hand.

She twisted the plug once more. "You'll keep that in until I remove it," she said. "Stand up," she said, taking his hand. "Wait for me at the cross."

As he stood facing the St. Andrew's cross, he heard her at the cupboards. Before long, he felt her very close behind him, and a moment later, her hands were on his thigh, stroking him, somewhere between a massage and a tease. She ignored his erection completely, although he was ready to beg for her touch. 

When she reached his ankle, she buckled on a soft leather cuff. She repeated this on his other leg, then stood to reach for his arm. She started at his shoulder and worked her way down toward his wrist, buckling on another cuff before doing the same to the other arm. Her touch was both comforting and arousing, her hands soft yet surprisingly strong. 

She urged him forward against the cross, which was set at a slight backward angle. "Lean in, there you go." She quickly clipped all four cuffs to the cross. Before stepping back, she gave the plug a quick, unexpected twist, and Matthew swore softly in French. 

"French is perfect for this, don't you think?" she said, replying in the same language. "So much more...expressive."

He was distracted by a sharp snapping sound, and a moment later, he felt the tails of a leather flogger against his thighs. It didn't hurt; she was testing the distance. The next dozen were slightly sharper, a warmup. She moved from his thighs to his ass to his shoulders, avoiding the parts of the back where injuries were more likely, at least for humans. Matthew felt keenly the helplessness of being bound. He hadn't been restrained like this for so very long, and it felt foreign, unfamiliar.

AQ

Her rhythm picked up, and so did the intensity, moving steadily from a sharp caress to a hard slap to a heavy, thudding pain. A gasp broke from him, and then a moan, and then, surprising himself, he started to sink. He'd thought to endure this for her, not to embrace it. But his body had other ideas, and he began to sink into the pain, into her possession of him. Letting the world recede until there was nothing but the two of them, nothing but waiting for the next fall of the tails, nothing but pleasing her. 

His body relaxed, and he leaned into the cross, grateful for the angle, letting it take as much of his weight as it could. Suddenly being bound wasn't frightening at all, just the opposite; it freed him from choice and thought and left space for nothing but surrender. His cock never flagged, constrained by the ring and so hard that it hurt, but it was just another sensation to add to the rest.

The flogger jarred the plug in his ass, and as it hit his prostate, he cried out at the pleasure twining itself into the pain. He felt her behind him, her hands stroking his sensitive skin, her short nails scratching lightly, and he leaned back into her touch. Every sensation was heightened -- the heat of her skin, the softness of her dress, the gentle brush of her lips against his shoulder.

She moved in front of him, her hand under his chin. "Open your eyes," she said in French. "You're doing so well," she said, kissing his lips softly. "I'm so proud of you." The praise was soothing, her voice washing over him like a warm breeze, and as she caressed his face, he turned into her palm and kissed it. "Can you take more for me? It would please me so much."

He nodded, the desire to please her overwhelming. With another soft kiss, she disappeared behind him again. 

She began again with a few easy strokes, warming him back up before she started to increase the intensity. This time, when she reached the point she'd been at before, she pressed, ratcheting up the force of the blows until each one felt like a stripe of fire on his skin. He cried out each time the flogger fell, but he was flying now, slipping deeper and deeper into a place where none of it mattered.

Had he been able to think clearly, he would have been shocked at how easily she had brought him to this point. But all he knew was that _Madame_ was the one striking him, and she wanted this, so it was welcome -- the sensation, the burn, the mix of pain and pleasure. His responses pleased her, so it was right that he should cry out. Strike after strike, blow after blow, until there was nothing else, nothing but pleasing her.

She was there again behind him, and she removed the plug, dropping it to the floor. Unclipping the ankle restraints, she pressed against his bare skin before reaching up to release his wrists. "Lean against me," she said. Her arm slid around his upper back, supporting him as he regained his feet, and she lowered them both to a thick rug a few steps away. "Easy, on your side, not your back."

She lay down beside him, running her hands down his body before reaching for his cock. He leaned into her touch, and she unsnapped the ring, tossing it aside. He groaned. She continued stroking him, her hand moving expertly. "Please, _Madame,_ may I speak?" he said, desperate, knowing he wouldn't last long.

"You may," she said, the touch of her hand both thrilling and dangerously relentless.

"Please, may I come? Please," he begged.

"Yes, darling, come for me," she said, her voice pitched low.

With a sigh of relief, he did, coming into her hand with a long shudder, grateful to her beyond words. She held her hand to his mouth, and he licked it clean without hesitation, tasting himself and her soft, warm skin. When he was finished, she kissed him, long and deep. He opened his mouth to her, and she licked into him, sharing his taste. After, she drew him close, wrapping her arms around him. She whispered calming words to him, still speaking French, her voice a soothing balm.

Her scent told him she was aroused, and he would have given anything to please her. But if she wanted that from him, she would certainly tell him so, and it wasn't his place to ask. She stayed beside him as he started to come down from the high of their play, touching his skin, telling him how well he had done and how much he had pleased her. The bruises and welts left by her flogger would fade soon, and the pain would recede; vampire healing wouldn't allow him to carry her marks for long. 

He wished he could, at least for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!


	3. A Grievous Error

After that day, he saw Amanda once or twice a week. Andria would call with a day and time, and Matthew would, inevitably, say yes; he was almost inexorably drawn to her. Each time they met, she learned more about him, and planned their next date accordingly. She quickly intuited that humiliation was not for him, and so she discarded it, unless she was punishing him. Their play became about sensation, and pain.

She was endlessly inventive, varying different kinds of impact with other forms of sensation. Wax, the pinwheel, sensory deprivation, clamps and clothespin zippers, orgasm denial, overstimulation to the point of begging her to stop. Sometimes she restrained him, sometimes she demanded he remain still without restraints.

Amanda had said that limits existed to be pushed, and she hadn't been joking. But she had an uncanny instinct for it, of knowing when the pain was about to become too much, more than even he could endure. She pressed him right up to that limit, but never went past it. 

Sometimes she let Matthew come, sometimes she didn't; not because he was being punished, but because sometimes seeing him come, by her hand or his own, pleased her, and sometimes it did not. Not knowing whether she would let him come on any given day was its own kind of pain.

"It's not as if I can send you home with marks, darling," she said, denying him permission after a long evening strapped to her bondage table. Her tawse, her crop, and her teasing hands had worked him into a shuddering mass of oversensitive nerve endings, and the pain and pleasure receptors in his brain were so scrambled that coherent thought was nearly impossible. "A drive home with a nice hard cock now and then will just have to do," she said with a shrug. It almost sounded perfectly reasonable.

"You did beg so sweetly, though," she added. Even that small bit of praise caused a quick rush of pleasure, his desire to please her battling with urgent, unfulfilled need. A sigh escaped him as he fastened his trousers carefully; he'd been desperate to come an hour ago, and the trip back to Oxford promised to be excruciating. 

She traced her lips across the back of his neck. "Is it uncomfortable?" she teased. "Where do you go when you get home? Your bed? The shower? Or can't you wait even that long?" Swearing under his breath, he remembered other nights when he'd returned to his rooms and stumbled into the shower, aching with need. He couldn't wrap his hand around his cock fast enough, his thoughts filled with her and what she'd done to him, what he wanted from her. She hadn't allowed him to touch her sexually thus far, and he wanted to beg for that, too, for all the good it might do him.

"Poor darling. I'll see you in a few days." Amanda kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the arm before sending him on his way.

And that was with _good _behavior. When he broke her rules, she punished him. He was punished for disobedience more than once, mostly for coming without permission. Sometimes he simply couldn't help it; driven to the edge by whatever she'd done to him, his control shattered the moment she unsnapped the ring, but before he'd had a chance to beg for permission. Disobedience meant the kneeling bench and the paddle -- a long, rectangular monstrosity made of heavy wood. She always made him count when she was punishing him, which kept him from slipping into the place where pain started to morph into pleasure.__

__

He was only punished for disrespect once. 

__

It had been a terrible week at the lab, one problem and setback after another. Buggy computers, malfunctioning equipment, ruined samples. He and Miriam were at each other's throats in a way that only vampires who'd known each other for centuries could be.

__

He knew he shouldn't have gone to Amanda's that day. He should have called Andria and begged off, accepting whatever punishment Amanda saw fit for such an infraction on their next date. But he wanted to see her, wanted the respite she gave him, and so he went.

__

Matthew ordinarily tried to arrive a bit early, but he'd escaped the lab later than he'd intended. Naturally, London traffic was particularly insane that day, and he was late, arriving just a few minutes before Amanda was due. Wrist and ankle cuffs had been left out for him, and he'd barely managed to strip, get the cuffs on, and kneel before she came up the stairs.

__

She greeted him as she usually did, with "Hello, darling," and a soft kiss, running a hand through his hair. He kissed her palm and tried to relax under her touch, but she sensed something was off.

__

"Are you all right?" she asked.

__

He nodded. "I just arrived later than I wanted to, _Madame._ "

__

"Very well, then," she said. "Let's get you over to the frame." 

__

He followed her to the bondage frame, standing quietly while she attached the restraints. She stopped when she saw his ankle cuffs. "These aren't buckled properly," she said. "They're much too loose. You need to be more careful, you could hurt yourself, or me," she said, rebuckling them securely. "Do I need to punish you for that?" Her voice was mild, not angry; she was inviting an apology.

__

The words slipped from Matthew without intent, without thinking. "Maybe you should," he snapped. His voice sounded like a slap in the face, even to him.

__

She stopped what she was doing.

__

Fuck. _Fuck_. There were few offenses as serious as the kind of disrespect he had just shown. " _Madame, s'il vous plait_..." he started, attempting to beg her forgiveness, retreating to the formality of French.

__

"No. Not now." Her voice wasn't raised, but it was firm, and cold. Shouting would have been far easier to bear than her icy silence. "Turn around and show me your wrists." He did, and she rebuckled those cuffs too, tightening them. "Kneel in front of the bench and wait for me."

__

Amanda made him wait for what felt like an eternity. She finally approached, and he didn't dare glance up at her. "Did you wish to speak?" her voice was soft -- and her tone dangerous.

__

" _Madame,_ " he began, "I am sorry for my outburst. It was disrespectful and inexcusable. Please forgive me."

__

She didn't respond immediately. "Is that all?" He had no idea what else to say, what else he had done. "Perhaps I can help," she said. "You said you arrived late today. What else?"

__

"I was distracted by problems at work, _Madame_ ," he said.

__

"So you came into this room with your head filled with trivial distractions. And instead of leaving them outside, you let those distractions intrude on our time together?"

__

"I did, _Madame_ ," Matthew admitted. He'd been incredibly stupid to think he could go directly from the chaos of the lab to Amanda's without taking even a few minutes to calm his busy mind. She'd even given him the opportunity to tell her what was wrong when she'd asked if he was all right, and he hadn't.

__

"Who owns your time when you are in this room?"

__

"You do, _Madame_ ," he said, starting to understand the nature of his offense.

__

"What else do I own when you are in this room?" Amanda asked, her voice still steely and cold.

__

"Me, _Madame._ " The words slipped from him without thought, surprising him, but sometime in the past weeks, it had become the truth. When he was here, with her, he belonged to her. Whether it was pain or pleasure, every flinch and moan and orgasm was hers. Hers to permit or inflict, hers to withhold. Her will, her desires, not his. Matthew had chosen this, and he chose again every time he walked up the stairs and set foot in this room. Once he did so, he gave up the right to be having a bad week, or to allow distractions to come between them. 

__

"Would you like to try again?" she asked.

__

"Yes, _Madame_ ," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I disrespected you by not being fully present, by allowing trivial outside matters to distract me. In doing so, I put my needs ahead of your will. I was disrespectful, and I humbly apologize."

__

She was silent for a long moment. "I accept your apology," her tone formal, but slightly less chilly. "I will punish you for this transgression as I see fit, and then we will put it behind us."

__

"Thank you, _Madame_ ," he said, grateful.

__

"Oh, you may not be thanking me before long. Stand up," Amanda said. She told him to kneel on the lower step of the bench, and after he had done so, she pushed his knees apart and clipped his ankle cuffs to it. "Bend over," she said, and as he usually did, he folded his arms underneath his head. "No. Arms out in front of you." She attached both wrists to the front of the bench, leaving him fully restrained and very exposed. She had never restrained him on the kneeling bench before, and his regret for his behavior increased as he wondered what was to come.

__

He felt something pressing between his cheeks, something slick but hard, not her fingers. "This will be easier if you relax," she said, although it didn't sound as if she particularly cared if he did or not. He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to tense, and she pushed the thing into him. It was a plug, a large one, and she implacably worked it inside him.

__

Before it was halfway in, Matthew felt it -- whatever lubricant she had used was warm and growing warmer. She continued to press the plug into him before pulling it out almost completely. Then she shoved it back inside him, hard. Fuck. He gasped; it hurt, and he tried to move before remembering he couldn't, suddenly grateful for the restraints. The lubricant grew warmer and warmer until it was _hot_ \-- it felt like it was burning him, and he cried out.

__

Merciless, Amanda kept moving the plug in and out, fucking him with it, the brushes against his prostate adding further misery rather than any hint of pleasure. She pulled it almost all the way out again, sliding it back gently, and on the next thrust she slammed it deep inside of him. "It hurts, doesn't it," she asked, her tone utterly unsympathetic and vaguely disinterested.

__

"Yes, _Madame_ ," he grated out. He wanted to beg her to stop -- but this was punishment, punishment he deserved, and mercy was hers to grant or withhold. She pulled the plug nearly out of him once more, and he felt the drip of more lubricant, the same torture lubricant, before she pressed it deep inside of him again. He groaned, his hands opening and closing pointlessly.

__

Stepping into his line of sight, she held the long wooden paddle he disliked so much. "You're going to count," she said. "Twenty." She disappeared behind him again, and before he had time to think, the first blow landed. It was almost impossible for any strike directed at his ass to miss the plug.

__

"One," he gasped, trying to sink into the pain, but it was no good, not when he had to count, and she knew it. He would feel each and every blow, and it was right that he should, because he had disrespected _Madame_ and he deserved this. "Two," he said, his voice already hitching in his throat, sounding half-strangled.

__

The blows kept landing and he kept counting, each one an abject misery. The plug hurt, the lubricant burned, and his ass was so raw he was sure he couldn't possibly have any skin left on it. By the time he cried out "twenty," he was trembling and exhausted, certain he couldn't have tolerated one more blow.

__

He felt her behind him, and she pulled out the plug. "Shh, it's over now, but stay still," Amanda said. He heard a flip-top open, and felt another plug, this one much smaller. She pressed it in slowly, and he was able to take it easily. This time, the plug was covered with regular lubricant. It felt cool and soothing, the burn inside him dissipating as she moved it in and out.

__

When his shaking subsided, she withdrew the plug and quickly unclipped his restraints. "Don't try to get up yet." She was back in moments, and he felt a cool, soothing cloth, gentling the pain and cleaning his skin. Somehow, she got him off the bench and onto the nearby rug, setting him on his side. She pulled off the ring and placed a cooling pad against his ass before dropping a blanket over him.

__

Tucking her legs under her, she sat beside Matthew, shifting his head onto her lap. "It's over, finished. You can rest now." She kissed him gently on the forehead, threading her fingers through his hair, her other hand on his shoulder.

__

He reached for her arm, plucking at her sleeve. For the first time since his grievous error, he met her eyes. " _Je suis désolé, Madame,_ " he apologized again, his voice little more than a ragged gasp as he begged her forgiveness once more. " _Vraiment désolé_. _S'il vous plait. Pardonnez-moi, je vous en supplie_."

__

"I know you are, darling, I know." The warmth in her voice draped over him, far more comforting than the blanket. She kissed him on the forehead again. "You're forgiven."

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!
> 
> Special feature! You can see the layout of Amanda's playroom [here](https://melina.dreamwidth.org/172869.html) (scroll down to the end of the page).


	4. Pain Relief

She did as she had said, putting the matter behind them. But going through and coming out the other side of an intense punishment strengthened their relationship. Once Matthew had shown her that he'd learned his lesson about bringing distractions into the room, Amanda trusted him more to follow the rules, to know himself and his limits. As her regard for him continued to develop, his submission was easier; it became a feedback loop of increasing trust and respect.

One evening some weeks later, she had him shackled to the St. Andrew's cross as she took a wickedly painful rattan cane to his ass and thighs. The sound of it whistling through the air, the anticipation of the blow, and his instinctive, tight flinch before the cane fell made every stroke agonizing. He tried to embrace the pain; but endorphins or not, the cane was intense, and he was practically hanging in his restraints before long. When the cane landed again, he let out a strangled cry.

Amanda stopped for a moment and asked, "One more. Can you take one more for me?" One more, one more and the pain would end, and she would be pleased with him. He nodded, wanting nothing more than her approval.

The last stroke hit the crease between his ass and his thighs, and it felt like it was shredding his skin. Matthew didn't gasp this time, he choked out a scream from the unrelenting pain of it. She was right there, unclipping his restraints, holding him up. "Let's go over to the bed, just a few steps. You were so brave, I'm so proud of you." He shuddered under her touch, her praise, and she lowered him to the bed on his side. Her shoes dropping to the floor, she slipped onto the bed behind him. She avoided pressing against him, but she ran her hands down his back, across his chest, whispering to him softly. Slowly, he unwound under her touch.

After some time, Amanda moved back, touching his ass and thighs gently. He flinched; he was healing, but not quite that quickly. "The skin isn't broken. But if you were anyone else, I would still do some first aid," she said. "Do you want a cold pack?"

"It isn't necessary, _Madame_ ," he said. "It already hurts less than it did a few minutes ago."

Slipping from the bed, she crawled back in from the other side, facing him. "Well," she said, smiling at him, a gleam in her eyes. "Let's see what else we can do for some pain relief, hmm?" She pulled off the cock ring -- he'd forgotten it was even there at some point -- and took him in her mouth. The stunning realization that she was actually doing this and the rush of sheer pleasure sent a long shudder through Matthew. "Oh, Christ." Her hands and mouth moved expertly, licking, teasing, swallowing him until he felt his cock against the back of her throat. 

He rolled onto his back, the pain of his still-healing ass and thighs nothing compared to the bliss of her lips against him. Matthew's hands fisted in the sheets, trying to stay still, knowing that if he moved -- if she let him move -- he wouldn't last ten more seconds. Lifting her head, teasing his length with her fingers, she said mildly, "Did you want to ask me something?"

Christ, he'd almost forgotten. "Please, _Madame_ , please, may I come?"

Amanda's smile managed to be both warm and wicked. "You may, darling boy." She sucked him all the way down again, and he moaned, his hips moving of their own accord. With a cry, he came, pulsing into her throat, his back arching off the bed. She swallowed, releasing him gently before moving up the bed to kiss him, her still-clothed body draped across his naked one.

Looking up at her, he wanted to touch her so badly it was almost painful. Oh, he knew better than to ask, and he might get into deep trouble for this; there might be a long afternoon with the paddle in it for him, but he couldn't stop himself. He ran one hand up the back of her thigh and under her dress, plucking gently at the waistband of her panties -- Christ, her thong. "Please, _Madame_ , let me please you. Whatever you want."

She raised an eyebrow, but she didn't move his hand. "Hmm, yes, it is whatever I want, isn't it." She traced a finger over his lips, and he kissed her palm, putting all of his desire for her into that chaste gesture. "Let's see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours," she said, rolling onto her back, inching her short dress up her thighs until he could see her thong. "Only your mouth."

Amanda's words sent a fresh rush of desire through him -- desire to touch her, to please her, to watch her come because of him. Matthew slid down the bed and settled between her thighs, inhaling deeply, letting her scent wash over him. He nuzzled and licked her through the thin fabric, gratified when she sighed, her hips moving under him.

He started to lift his hand to pull off her thong when he remembered her words -- _only your mouth_. Moving to her hip, he took the thin elastic in his teeth, pulling it down as far as he could before repeating the effort on the other side. Amanda lifted her hips, and inch by inch, Matthew pulled the thong down, over her thighs, to her knees, and finally to her ankles and off. He kissed and licked his way back up her legs, finding a spot behind her knee that sent a shiver through her before settling between her thighs again. He glanced up at her, and she smiled, aroused, but apparently appreciative that he was taking his time.

Matthew grinned back before bending his head and burying his lips and tongue in her wet heat, focusing completely on her and her pleasure. Amanda's breath caught in her throat, a needy sound full of want and desire. God, but he loved this. There was no better way to learn a woman's body, to find out what made her gasp, what sent shivers down her spine, what brought her to the edge and over it. Nothing but the hunt made better use of his vampire senses or indulged them quite so completely.

He ran his tongue up and down her folds, once, then again, before teasing her clit with his tongue. As her hips moved against him, he felt the increase in her pulse, but unless she ordered him to hurry, he was going to take his time. He dipped his tongue into her just once, a tease, licking his way back up to her clit again. Tracing it with his lips, he teased it again before licking into her once more, deeper this time, tasting a fresh surge of wetness against his tongue. Her breathing was quicker now and so was her pulse, and when he withdrew this time, he stopped teasing and sucked her clit into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, yes," she gasped, and he smiled. Her hips moved against him, finding the rhythm his lips and tongue set. When he glanced up, her eyes were closed and her head dropped back. He knew she was close, and he increased the tempo of his attentions, sucking, licking, exploring with his tongue until he found the spot that made her gasp, returning to it again and again. Shuddering, she cried out as she came, the sounds she made and the scent of her sending a hot rush of renewed desire through him. He wanted to use his hands, to touch her, but the rules were hers, and he obeyed them. Only after her hips stilled and her breathing began to calm did he move his mouth, kissing her inner thigh tenderly.

"Come here," she said, and he slid up the bed. "You are," she said, still a bit breathless, "very good at that." He smiled, and she kissed him, long and hard and messy. Roughly, Amanda pushed him onto his back. His welts were still healing, and the light pressure of the sheets against his ass and thighs startled him; he swore under his breath.

In what seemed like one swift movement, she lifted her dress over her head and tossed it aside, straddled him, and slid down onto his cock. Matthew swore again, lifting his hips, pushing into her as far as he could. Christ, he had wanted this for weeks; being inside her felt perfect and watching her fuck him was almost better. She began to move, sliding up and down, her eyes dropping closed, and he moved with her, matching her pace as she rose and fell, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Daring to touch her without asking permission, he ran his hand down her arm to her hip. She didn't object, so he continued, ghosting his fingers over the lace of her bra. She smiled down at him, twisting her hips, and he groaned, his body moving to meet hers. He felt drunk just from touching her, from being allowed to touch her anywhere he could reach. His hands slid around her back, gliding over soft skin from shoulder to waist. Nudging her bra aside, he caressed her nipples into tight, hard peaks. She began to move faster, twisting her hips again, and Matthew knew he wouldn't be able to hold back once she came.

"Oh, fuck, _please_ ," he begged, unable to find words any more coherent.

Her eyes met his. "After me," she said. His hand drifted up to her face, and her eyes never leaving his, Amanda turned her head into his palm and kissed it. It was that simple gesture that almost undid him, but her head dropped back and she gasped, tightening around him. She was so beautiful as she came, giving herself over completely to pleasure. Matthew tried to maintain his control as long as he could, but there was nothing for it, his hips moving of their own accord as he spent himself inside her, their shared energy crackling almost audibly. She slumped a bit as her shudders subsided, and he slid his arms around her waist, supporting her, helping her move onto her back beside him. 

They didn't speak, but she reached for his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss, her pulse still beating rapidly. They rested quietly for a while, and she seemed a bit tired, if sated; Matthew simply didn't want to move. 

After a time, she tilted her head to meet his eyes. "With eyes like those and...talent like that," she said, her eyes wandering to his mouth, "I guess you've been dropping panties for a long time."

Matthew bit back a smile. It was clear she was fishing for his age, but he didn't take the bait, at least not all of it. "Since before there were panties," he said with a rueful smile.

She laughed; it was the first time he'd ever really heard her laugh, and her voice was rich and sweet. Leaning over to kiss him, she said, "I'll bet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!
> 
> Special feature! You can see the layout of Amanda's playroom [here](https://melina.dreamwidth.org/172869.html) (scroll down to the end of the page).


	5. Enchanté, Mademoiselle

After that night, sex was a frequent, though not invariable, part of their time together, but always on her terms and under her control. Matthew didn't mind; he was happy to be able to touch her, to feel her skin under his hands. He loved looking up at her when she was straddling him, her head tilted back, lips parted. Most of all, he loved watching her come; she was utterly uninhibited, unashamedly taking her pleasure. He started calling her Amanda when they were in bed. 

Sex was a part of their relationship, but far from all, or even most of it. Amanda always had something else planned for him, something unexpected, something sure to leave him gasping, screaming, shuddering, or all three.

One thing she hadn't done, for better or for worse, was follow through on her idea to pass him around to multiple men. But one evening, she brought a young woman with her.

He knew something was different. No cock ring had been left out for him, and a note, in what he now recognized as Amanda's impeccable script, instructed him to strip only to his briefs. 

That was certainly odd, but he'd done as he was told, leaving on his black briefs and kneeling to wait for her. She arrived before long, speaking in French to a young woman who had followed her up the narrow staircase. 

"Darling, hello," Amanda said, speaking in French as she bent to kiss him. "I brought a friend today; her name is Katriane," she gestured the girl over, and she came to Amanda's side, but avoided eye contact with him. Amanda put her arm around the girl, and she leaned into Amanda's touch. "She understands English, but feels she's not fluent, so we'll speak French. Katriane, this is Matthew," she said. The girl's gaze lifted, and her eyes widened as she looked at him properly.

He saw Amanda bite back a smirk. Matthew disregarded the girl's response, not unfamiliar with such reactions. It had very little to do with him; it was just a tool nature gave his kind to attract prey. And what prey this girl would be, if a vampire was so inclined. She was twenty-five or so, her fair skin glowing with youthful vibrancy. She was tiny, barely over five feet tall, with reddish blonde hair dropping beyond her shoulders. Her modest skirt and blouse suggested an abundance of curves underneath.

But it was her energy that left the real impression, and it was pouring off her in waves. An experienced dominant couldn't miss it. She was submissive through and through, her desire to please as obvious as her height or hair color. His eyes met Amanda's for a moment, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. She felt it, too. With the girl here with the two of them -- the unapologetic dominant and the dominant who'd chosen to submit, for now -- the energy in the room couldn't have changed more if a nuclear bomb had detonated next to the love seat.

After a whisper from Amanda, Katriane offered him her hand, meeting his eyes as she greeted him with a soft " _Bonjour, m'sieu_."

Matthew stood, taking her hand and kissing it. " _Enchanté, Mademoiselle_." Her scent was like a French meadow in the spring, sweet acacia and wild cherries. Her eyes dropped from his face to his chest, and she reached out, touching his shoulders, her lips slightly parted as she pulled him gently forward for a kiss. She pressed her mouth to his, but almost immediately, she ceded control of the kiss to him. He took it, reciprocating her gentleness, his tongue touching hers only lightly. 

He broke the kiss only regretfully, kissing her hand again. The girl had a bright spirit. He saw it in the light in her eyes when she looked at him, in the warm way she'd bent into Amanda's touch, and he'd felt it in her kiss. She was almost unbearably sweet.

Amanda touched her on the shoulder. "Go and strip to your lingerie for me, darling." 

She switched to English once the girl stepped away, nodding toward the bed. "She asked me to arrange this. You'll do this for me, hmm?" she said, lifting her hand to Matthew's cheek.

She wasn't ordering; she was asking. He didn't know the story behind her request, but he was certain there was one, and he trusted Amanda's judgment. If this was what Katriane wanted, could it be a kindness? A way to atone for some of the damage he'd done to other human women? Nodding, he turned into Amanda's palm and kissed it. "I'm yours, _Madame_."

Smiling, she kissed him softly. "You both have permission and your safewords. Hers is _oiseau._ " He nodded. "It's up to you to take the lead; that kiss was very daring for her. She really doesn't have a dominant bone in her body."

Katriane soon returned to Amanda's side. "Isn't she adorable?" she asked Matthew, switching back to French.

She was that, and more. She wore only a dark blue bra and panties, the color a marked contrast to her pale skin. As he'd thought, her breasts were large and full, just barely contained by the bra, which had been designed with aesthetics rather than function in mind. Her stomach had a gentle curve to it, and she had what once would have been called child-bearing hips. Her body may not have been fashionable today -- not tall enough, too many curves -- but she reminded Matthew of the girls considered the prettiest and most desirable in Saint-Lucien long ago.

"She's lovely, _Madame_ ," he said, his voice warm, and the girl blushed again. Amanda kissed her on the lips tenderly, whispering to her so softly that even Matthew could not overhear. Katriane looked up at Amanda and nodded. Amanda led them over to the bed, placing Katriane's hand in Matthew's before she moved to the love seat, folding her legs underneath her.

Matthew felt the girl's pulse flutter under his touch. She smiled at him, and he drew her closer with their joined hands. He spoke softly in French. "Is this what you desire, Katriane?"

Lifting her eyes, she smiled at him and nodded before dropping her gaze again. The lack of eye contact must be her own instincts; he couldn't imagine Amanda imposing such a rule on her. "Katriane. Please look at me." She did, and he kissed her hand again, maintaining eye contact. Her pulse picked up, her scent betraying the beginnings of arousal.

Although he didn't quite understand why, he believed that she wanted this. But something about her, maybe her youth or her overwhelming need to please, brought out his protective instincts. They would take this slowly, and if he sensed she was uneasy at any point, he wouldn't hesitate to use his safeword.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew Katriane down beside him. He kissed her, long and slow, exploring tenderly. As he slid his hands down her back, she opened her mouth to him, her arms tentatively moving around his shoulders. Dropping gentle kisses across her face, her skin soft and sweet, he moved his lips to her neck. Leaning into his touch, she sighed.

Matthew felt Amanda's eyes on them, but she watched without interfering, and he resisted the temptation to look over at her. 

He focused on Katriane instead, continuing the undemanding kisses, the slow build of desire, holding her eyes with his own whenever he could. As her arousal grew, he urged her onto her back, and he stretched out beside her. He kissed his way down her neck, his hands and mouth tasting, exploring. Taking his time, he caressed her lush curves, lightly touching her breasts through her bra. She was all youth and heat and uncertain desire, and it had been a very long time since he'd been with anyone like her. The warmth, the bright spirit he'd sensed earlier, seemed to shine through her skin.

She moved into his touch, moaning softly as he kissed the skin surrounding her bra. He slid his hands up her back, underneath the strap. "May I?" he asked softly. She whispered her assent, and he unfastened the hook, kissing her shoulders as he slowly pushed down one strap, then the other. He held her gaze as he pulled off the bra. She was comfortable in her own skin, unabashed as he revealed more of her body, his eyes skimming down her form. 

Cupping her breasts in his hands, he bent to taste them. Her hand slid around his neck, pulling him closer, and he was happy to oblige; her breasts were truly lovely, and sensitive to his every touch. She gasped as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and he felt his own arousal, which had thus far taken a back seat to his interest in her pleasure, start to build. 

Slowly, he slid his mouth from her breasts down the gentle curve of her stomach. Caressing her hip and the top of her leg, he waited to see how she responded. Her thighs slowly parted for him. She was comfortable under his touch now, her scent and pulse changing as her desire grew. 

Sliding his hand to her inner thigh, he touched her lightly, his fingers just barely gliding over her panties. Tracing his fingers around the edges of the silk and lace, he teased her with fluttering kisses on her stomach and hip. "Oh," she gasped, as his fingers flitted across her sex again, this time with a firmer touch. 

He looked up at her, sliding one finger just under the waistband. "May I, Katriane?" he asked again. 

"Yes," she answered, meeting his eyes. "Please."

He held her gaze as he pulled the panties down and off, giving her a quick smile before bending his head. His fingertips flitted over her thighs again, teasing once more with butterfly kisses as he inhaled her scent. When he tasted her, she moaned, her hips arching into his mouth. Taking his time, he teased and licked her before slipping his hands underneath her hips. He nuzzled her clit before taking it into his mouth, suckling and teasing her with his tongue. She grew increasingly breathless, her hips moving in his hands. Sucking harder, he felt her quivering as she started to moan and shudder, gasping as she came, her hips restless beneath him.

When her shudders subsided, he moved beside her and kissed her again, long and sweet, his tongue delving deeper, wanting more of her. He was hard and aching, but he would stop if she wanted to go no further. But Katriane's eyes opened and looked into his, and he scented her fresh surge of desire. Her hand rose to stroke his face before slipping around his back, moving down his body until she encountered his briefs. She touched him through the fabric, and his eyes dropped closed, leaving it to her to decide what would follow. Pulling at the waist of the briefs, she pushed them down his hips until his cock was freed. She took him into her hand, exploring his length before reaching around his back, urging him wordlessly to move on top of her. 

Kicking the briefs off, he shifted between her thighs. As he kissed her again, his mouth grew more demanding against hers, his tongue pressing inside. He knew she was wet; he could smell it, but he moved his hand between her thighs, sliding a finger inside her. Moaning, she grasped his shoulders, and her pulse quickened again as his finger withdrew. Holding her eyes, Matthew pushed inside her carefully, kissing her neck, her breasts. He held himself back, focusing on her responses. But she soon grew impatient, wrapping a leg around his hip, urging him to move faster, harder. 

Finally allowing himself to give into his own need, he acceded to her desire, thrusting into her once, twice; Katriane responded with a delightful shiver. Her body was so responsive to his, and they easily found the perfect rhythm, moving together, her arms pulling him closer. Breathing deeply against her hair, he let her scent wash over him, and it was like the rest of her, like spring, warm and fresh and soft. 

Matthew sighed into her mouth as he kissed her again, sliding his hand between them, teasing her clit; he wanted to see her face when she came this time, feel her body tighten around his. Katriane tensed as release rushed through her again, moaning into his open mouth and clenching around him, her features soft and beautiful with pleasure. He followed moments later, a soft groan escaping him as he came with a long shudder. 

After soft kisses and sweet words, she dozed off in his arms, and Matthew let his own eyes close for a few minutes. He woke to Amanda's gentle kiss brushing across his lips. "You're beautiful, both of you," she whispered.

Not wanting to wake Katriane, he whispered back to her. "Why did she ask you for this, Amanda?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression changing to one of sadness and compassion mixed with quiet anger. "She's attracted to men, almost entirely to men, really, but she had some bad experiences when she was a teenager. It's a miracle that nobody crushed her completely."

A surge of anger flooded through Matthew. An inexperienced girl as naturally submissive as she was, the desire to please an ingrained part of her nature, was a ripe target for opportunistic men.

"She craves submission, and there's no keeping her away from it," Amanda continued, stroking Katriane's hair gently. "But she's been learning there's a difference between being submissive and being a doormat. She told me recently that she wanted to be with a man again. So I brought her to someone I knew I could trust. Your instincts with her were perfect. I knew they would be."

He understood now why Amanda had stayed. She had watched over them, not as a voyeur, but for Katriane's sake, to ensure she felt safe. "Thank you for trusting me with her."

"I knew I could," she said, looking down at Katriane. "This was only a first step for her. She needs to find a male dominant she can trust."

Turning back to Matthew, she said, "I need to go downstairs for a few minutes to make a call. I won't be long." She touched his face, and he turned to kiss her palm. "Will you stay in case she wakes up?" He nodded. "Call Andria if you need anything." She kissed him again before disappearing down the stairs. He looked down at Katriane, wrapped around his side. Kissing her gently on the forehead, he closed his arms a bit more tightly around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!
> 
> Special feature! You can see the layout of Amanda's playroom [here](https://melina.dreamwidth.org/172869.html) (scroll down to the end of the page).


	6. Her Scent was Strange

One afternoon, she was late. She was never late. After almost half an hour, he'd thrown his clothes back on, about to go look for Andria, when Amanda burst into up the stairs, still wearing her coat. Her eyes were bright, and Matthew could smell adrenaline underneath rampant desire. She came straight toward him, pulling off her coat as she did. It thumped to the floor, and he vaguely wondered what she had in her pockets as she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him deeply, hungrily, her hands running down his body.

"Why are you wearing clothes?" she asked, but she wasn't scolding him.

"You were late, I was worried --"

"Shut up," she said, kissing him again. "Fuck me. Right now."

Desire surged through him like a living thing, and she certainly didn't need to tell him twice. She wrapped one leg around his hip, and he picked her up, his arms supporting her as he started to move toward the bed. "No, now, right now," she said, tightening her legs around him. He moved her back toward the wall instead, reaching between them and tearing her panties off with a single, sharp tug. 

She was breathing hard, her heart pounding as she kissed him again, her tongue pushing demandingly into his mouth, rubbing her thighs against him. She was moving so restlessly that he barely managed to hold her against the wall with one hand while opening his trousers with the other, freeing his cock. They moaned together as he shoved himself inside her with a quick sharp thrust, utterly without finesse or grace. Her arms around him, she grasped him tightly, moaning into his ear as he buried his lips against her neck. "God. Harder," she gasped. Christ. Lifting her halfway off his cock, he pulled her down hard and shoved himself deep inside her. She cried out, squirming against him. "More," she demanded. He did it again, and again, but he knew he wasn't going to last, not like this. He wasn't wearing a ring, and he still had to ask for permission.

" _Madame_ , please..." he grated out, his control beginning to shred. 

"As soon as I do," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

He slid one hand between them, and all it took was a finger pressed against her clit before she started to clench around him with a breathless cry. Her face flushed, her eyes dropped closed, and he held off as long as he could before he followed her, his mouth on hers as he came deep inside of her with a moan. It was too much, and not enough.

Sliding from her as carefully as he could, he lowered her back to her feet. He pressed a hand against the wall behind her, trying to regain his equilibrium. Smiling, she leaned up to kiss him softly. " _Now _you can take me to bed," she said.__

____

He laughed; she was incredible. She led him to the bed, and this time, after he had shed his own clothing, she let him undress her. Her scent was nothing but pleasure hormones, adrenaline, and unchecked desire; she was far from sated.

____

They sat on the bed kissing, less frantically now, Amanda pulling him closer. He expected her to push him down, but instead, she pulled him on top of her. Smoothing her hair away from her forehead, he looked into her eyes, asking what she wanted without words. Her eyes flashed, and she shifted underneath him, her thighs falling open around him, offering herself without the usual rules, and Christ. His cock was hard again in seconds.

____

For a long moment, Matthew hardly moved despite his desire for her, unwilling to look away from her eyes. He threaded his fingers through her hair, down her neck and chest, through the hollow between her breasts, and back up her chin to her lips, tracing them with one finger. Her lips parted, and she bit the tip of his finger. It sent a spark of arousal down his spine and straight to his sex.

____

Sliding his hand behind Amanda's neck, he finally brought his mouth to hers, kissing her urgently. She opened her mouth to him, letting him take the lead, and he explored her as he'd wanted to for months. Her arms slipped around him, drawing him closer, and her need deepened his, their desire spiraling. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, to taste every last bit of skin. Moving restlessly under him, her pulse pounded in his ears; he kissed her chin, her neck, his hands sliding down her body, along her hips. 

____

He drew a nipple into her mouth, sucking hard, and she gasped, her hands on his back, not guiding him, just pulling him closer. As he moved his head to her other breast, his lips fluttered over her heart vein, bringing a surge of unexpected desire. It surprised Matthew, the urge to drink from her there, and it would have even if she hadn't explicitly forbidden it. The heart vein was for lovers, for intimates. Had he started thinking of her that way? It didn't matter; she had forbidden it, and he forced himself to set the thought firmly aside. He licked around the edge of her nipple instead, grazing it with his teeth until her breath hitched in her throat.

____

Kissing her deeply, his mouth moved from her lips to her neck to her eyelids and back. He slid one hand down her body until he reached the heat between her thighs, finding her wet and open and wanting, and he wanted to watch her come just like this. Pressing two fingers inside of her, he curled his fingers and explored until she gasped, his thumb moving against her clit. She writhed underneath him and started to shudder and spasm around his fingers, moaning softly. Their faces were only inches apart, he watched her come, and fuck, she was so beautiful like this. When he could bear to stop looking at her, he kissed her before burying his mouth against her neck. 

____

He moved his hand only when her shudders subsided, lifting it to his mouth and unashamedly licking her fluids away. Amanda pulled him down to her mouth for another kiss, and as impossible as it was, it felt like his aching cock grew even harder against her thigh. He wanted to be inside her desperately, but wondered if it might be too soon, or if she was already spent. 

____

Smoothing her hair away from her face, he let her rest. "Are you going to fuck me or are you just a tease?" she asked, but there was no anger in it, and her voice sent another shock of need up his spine. 

____

Was he going to fuck her? Matthew kissed her hard enough to bruise and pushed deep inside her with one long thrust, and she moaned even as she urged him on, wrapping a leg around his waist. "Oh, fuck, yes, more, _please_ ," and he almost came just from hearing that word from her, that word he said to her so often and so desperately. He moved faster, harder; it was forceful, almost brutal, but Amanda kept urging him on until another orgasm tore through her, her heartbeat its own urgent rhythm. Her body clenched around his, and her harsh, breathy gasps undid him, his own cries mixed with hers as he came deep inside her, shuddering with the intensity of it.

____

He kissed her slower and more gently this time, before slipping out of her and collapsing beside her on the bed. Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her head on his chest, still recovering her breath as her pulse began to slow. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her, and he had to resist the desire to start licking it off her body. 

____

"Amanda," he said softly. 

____

She tilted her head and looked up at him. 

____

"Are you all right? That was..."

____

"Just what I needed," she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. He nipped at them lightly. "I'm fine. You didn't hurt me. Don't worry." Settling deeper into his arms, she said, "You're really very sweet."

____

Matthew bent to kiss her on the forehead before burying his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. The combination of adrenaline and desire he'd picked up earlier was fading, though she was still awash with pleasure hormones. But her underlying scent was strange; it carried the faint tang of blood mixed with the ionized smell that followed a thunderstorm.

____

There had been no rain for days. What had happened to her? 

____

He knew she wouldn't tell him, so he didn't ask.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!
> 
> Special feature! You can see the layout of Amanda's playroom [here](https://melina.dreamwidth.org/172869.html) (scroll down to the end of the page).


	7. Omni Fine Initium Novum

The following week, Amanda was already there when he arrived in the late afternoon.

Starting to apologize, he checked his watch to see if he was late, but she interrupted. "No, darling, it's fine. Come sit with me." She drew him to the loveseat and they sat, Matthew wondering what this break in their routine meant. 

Taking his hand, she said, "This is so difficult to tell you, but I'm leaving London."

Feeling himself deflate somewhat, he asked, "Why --"

"It's time for me to move on." Her voice was calm but certain, and it didn't invite any questions.

He would miss this, miss _her_. But whatever Amanda's reasons, he had to respect her decision. "When?"

"End of the week." There was no talk of visits, of staying in touch. She was, for whatever reason, making a clean break of London. He wondered if this had anything to do with their last date, when she'd arrived so restless and full of need, and with her scent strange. There wasn't any point in seeking answers; he knew she wouldn't tell him anything more. Full of secrets, his Amanda, but on a bone-deep level, he understood; he had so many secrets of his own. 

Reaching for him, she drew him close to her, kissing him. "I will miss you, Matthew."

 _Then why are you leaving_ , he wanted to ask, returning the kiss. But he didn't. This was a part of his life -- you stayed in a place too long, and you had to move on, to break with finality any ties you had with humans. But he was used to being the one who left, not the one left behind. "I will miss you, too," he said simply.

Standing, she untied the simple wrap dress she was wearing, dropping it to the floor. She extended a hand to him, and he rose, kissing her palm.

They made love slowly and thoroughly, as lovers now, equals. Just Matthew and Amanda, and the one evening they had left together. Nobody led, nobody followed; they both gave and took in equal measure. It was passionate and sweet, and a bit melancholy. They were in each other's arms for hours, but for Matthew's part, it was over far too soon.

After, they both slept, and when Matthew awoke, it was dark and late. He looked at Amanda asleep beside him, and he decided he needed to be the one to leave. He couldn't bear a moment in this room without her, this room so filled with his memories and her scent. Rising from the bed, he started to dress, intending to wake her when he was ready to depart. His back was to the bed as he buttoned his shirt, and he didn't realize she was awake until she spoke.

"You're beautiful when you submit, and I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together. But it's not who you really are," she said. "The whip belongs in your hand, and you know it."

He knew. He had always known. But she was a force of nature, and when she'd crooked her finger, he had followed. He would never regret it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he kissed her lips once more, long and lingering. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm, that signature gesture between them as intimate as anything else they had shared. " _Adieu_ , Amanda."

"Goodbye, Matthew."

Halfway to the stairs, he looked back one last time, fixing the image of her in his memory: a sheet half-covering her lovely form, relaxed and sated, mussed with sex. On instinct, he swept her a bow, an elegant, courtly bow that would not have been out of place four centuries earlier at Versailles, or the Royal Alcázar, or the Court of St. James's. She nodded in return, briefly and graciously, royalty acknowledging a loyal subject. Then she winked and blew him a kiss, and with a warm smile, he turned and went down the stairs for the last time.

Andria was waiting for him. " _Madomaisèla _asked me to give you this," she said, handing him a card. It was handwritten, and read _Katriane_ , in Amanda's elegant hand. There was a London phone number, and nothing more. "The young lady would like to see you again, if it is your desire," Andria said.__

____

He smiled, shaking his head. Amanda couldn't help herself. He thanked Andria, kissing her on both cheeks and bidding her farewell before he left.

____

_She needs to find a male dominant she can trust._

____

He put the card safely in his pocket. 

____

A week later, he picked up the telephone.

____

__

__

~ the end ~

__

__

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! Thanks for reading to the very end; I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. All feedback welcome!
> 
> Writing BDSM as fanfic, for me, is writing a kinky fantasy, and it's very different from kink in the real world. My goal here is not factual accuracy, but emotional authenticity (and writing a sexy and entertaining story). Issues of consent and safety, among many other things portrayed in this story, shouldn't be taken as any kind of guide! If you choose to engage in kinky behavior, please take the time to educate yourself.
> 
> A bunch of people helped me with this monster, and I appreciate all of them -- in particular devo, who helped so much early on, minim calibre, an awesome rescuer of typos and awkward phrases, and tifah, who helped me get my mojo back when it went missing for awhile. I also appreciate Ces and astolat for reminding me of what matters in this process. Geekturnedvamp, I love, respect, and adore you; thanks for all the conversations over the past few months.


End file.
